Before going grocery shopping on Monday, Theo ran into the bedroom and emerged with his "money bear," a bank I made him from a plastic honey container. Grabbing two dollars, he gleefully informed me that he would be buying a hot dog at Costco. (A not-healthy treat we occasionally allow him to consume.) I told him he didn't need to bring money, that I would buy it for him, and then he said, "But mommy, I'm buying it for you
And he did. I ate it with relish and lots of onions. (Sorry all our vegan and vegetarian friends!) I bought him one too. We had a great date.
Yesterday morning I woke up to this.
In case you can't tell, it's a love note. Theo finds scraps of paper (usually from to-do lists in my purse) and writes notes on them, sticking them up with tape on random walls/furniture of the house, waiting for me to discover their existence. Yes, my four year old son thinks I'm pretty cool.
You'd think I'd be happy receiving all this affection from my 4 year old (and indeed I am), but it makes me wish I could feel some of Vincent's love. At 18 months, he was very warmhearted, loved giving hugs and kisses, and after he died I have desperately missed him and his sloppy wet open mouthed smooches, the feel of his head on my chest, and getting my hair pulled as he gurgles "baa baa!" Since we came home on hospice and he gradually slipped away from us I have felt very far from him indeed. I know many grieving parents have seen "signs" from their kids, messages of love sent from above, but I'm not one to read into things. It's just not my style. So when I see a pristine gray feather on my floor by the bed in the morning, I don't think, "Wow, that must be from Vincent"- instead I think, "Gross, how did that get there?" (This really did happen a few weeks ago!) I saw a few more in the kitchen the other morning, too. I have no idea how these bird feathers are getting into the house during the night.
For all I know, Vincent could be sending me love notes from heaven. I'll try to keep my eyes peeled and heart open.